


Steve, Bucky, and the Beyoncé Experience™

by plaguedbynargles



Series: The Stucky Experience [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Beyonce - Freeform, Crack, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Pining, implied Clintasha, it's not a main point don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-30
Updated: 2016-06-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 08:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7352713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plaguedbynargles/pseuds/plaguedbynargles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve and Bucky are going down each of their lists of 21st century things to learn about. Next up: Beyoncé!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steve, Bucky, and the Beyoncé Experience™

**Author's Note:**

> HI GOVERNMENT AND/OR BEYONCE JUST SAYIN ONE MORE TIME THAT THE TRADEMARK SYMBOL IS I R O N I C IT'S HUMOROUS IT'S JUST FOR GIGGLES AIGHT I OWN N O T H I N G I'M JUST AN ENGLISH MAJOR PLEASE GET THE JOKE AND DON'T SUE ME THNKS LOVE YA.

               Steve settled on the sofa next to Bucky, gingerly opening up his laptop. He wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to treat something with more processing power than what took humans to the moon as anything less than fragile.

               Now, outside of the windows of Stark tower, the moon was rising in the sky, comparable even to the rest of New York in brightness. Steve asked JARVIS to dim the windows a bit, to give them more privacy. Why Tony couldn’t just use curtains like everyone else, he would never know.

               “So,” Steve turned from the screen to Bucky, who was frowning at the notebook in his hand, “What’s next?”

               It had become a nightly ritual for Steve and Bucky to research one item off either of their lists together, since they tended to be clueless about the same things, having missed similar parts of history. Still, every once in a while Bucky would be in the dark about something Steve had learned about while he was still under HYDRA’s influence, and Steve for once got to play teacher, not learner. Star Wars had been one of these items. Last night, they’d marathoned the first three movies (Clint insisted, the _only_ three movies), until quite late, and if Bucky’s frequent yawns were any indication, they were both still tired.

               Something easy tonight, then.

               “Should watch the next three Star Wars,” Bucky flipped a few pages of crossed out items.

               “Apparently,” Steve watched Bucky’s hands, “they suck.”

               “Hmph.”

               They sat in silence for a moment.

               “Dabbing?” Steve squinted at the list, “That sounds…”

               Bucky snickered.

               “What?” Steve challenged. Bucky just shook his head.

               “Nat told me that one already. I’m lettin you figure it out on your own,” Bucky chuckled.

               “But that’s-!”

               “What about Twitter?” Bucky continued down the list.

               Steve wrinkled his nose, “We just _did_ Facebook. I’m not doing another one of those yet.”

               “Harry Potter?”

               Steve typed it into Google and immediately soured on the idea.

               “There’s _seven_ of them, Buck.”

               “So?”

               “ _So_ , we need sleep!”

               “You don’t sound tired to me, punk.”

               Steve elbowed him.

               “ _Ow!_ ”

               “That didn’t hurt.”

               Bucky muttered something about showing Steve “hurt” and gave him a real shove, pinning him down onto the couch and barely giving Steve enough time to save the laptop from crashing to the floor.

               “Stevie-”

               “BUCK. THE LAPTOP.”

               “Harry Potter.”

               “ _Tomorrow._ I promise.”

               Bucky rolled his eyes doubtfully, still holding Steve down, “Tomorrow for sure.”

               “Get off me! I’m gonna drop it!”

               “Potter or else.”

               “Buck, we _share_ this laptop.”

               “We’d better watch _four_ of em tomorrow.”

               “ _Fine._ ”

               Bucky finally let Steve up, smirking. Both were unsure why their hearts were pounding so hard. It wasn’t as if the super soldiers had exerted themselves at all.

               Steve sighed after a while, frowning at the notebook, “What about Beyoncé?”

               “Who the Hell is Beyoncé?” Bucky said, scrutinizing the notebook, “And why does she have ‘queen’ written in parentheses next to her name?”            

               Steve shrugged, “Modern royalty? Only one way to find out.”

               He typed her name into Google, skimming the results with Bucky. Seemed like she was a performer, and a famous one at that.

               “One of the most influential females in modern day music,” Steve read. Bucky frowned.

               “But…she’s a performer.”

               “Hold on,” Steve started typing rapidly, bringing up a YouTube search and clicking on the first result, “Let’s see how good she is.”

               The video, titled _7/11_ , started playing, and they watched in silence. Eventually, Bucky snorted.

               “She’s just dancing around her hotel-!”

               “Shhhhh,” Steve cut him off, “She looks damn good doin it.”

               Bucky shot him a glare, “You got strange taste in women, Rogers.”

               They were silent until the end of the video.

               “Well?” Steve asked, once the video was over. Bucky shrugged.

               “Well _what_?”

               “Oh, come on, you don’t think she’s good?” Steve was incredulous. How the Hell couldn’t Bucky see the kind of talent in front of him? He wished they’d had this kind of stuff in the 40s. Maybe he’d have gone on more dancing double dates with Bucky, then.

               Bucky leaned in, real close so that Steve’s heart did a little jump, “Stevie,” he said calmly, “She was singing to her _foot_.”

               “I think it’s cool!”

               “Rogers, you wouldn’t know cool if it hit you over the head.”

               Steve gaped, “I was literally frozen in a block of ice for 70 years!”

               Bucky groaned loudly, falling back onto the couch with a huff, “Don’t remind me of that damn stunt you pulled.”

               “Buck, look,” Steve had pulled up another video, _Run the World (Girls)_ , and angled the laptop precariously so that Bucky, lying on his back, could see the screen.

               After a moment, Bucky conceded, “This one’s better,” though he was paying less attention to the screen than he was Steve’s biceps, straining slightly from holding the computer in such an awkward position. “Peggy woulda liked this one.”

               Steve sat back in a normal position, “I know,” he said softly.

               Bucky propped himself up on his elbows to study him.

               The video ended, and they sat in poignant silence again.

               “It feels wrong sometimes, Buck,” Steve confessed, “Being here. Watching Beyoncé.”

               “Well, she is pretty good,” he adopted an exaggerated Asgardian accent, “My mortal eyes are not worthy, and all that.”

               Steve smiled gently at the jest, but it quickly faded, “I should be in the forties, Buck. In the ranks with you and Peg-”

               “Alright, Rogers, I love you, you know I do…but shut your trap,” Bucky stood up for emphasis, “I miss it too, alright? It’s weird being here. But you and I have been _blessed_ with this. If we were supposed to be in the forties, then we would be. But, somehow, we aren’t. Not only are we here, but we’re here together, and that’s a goddamn _miracle_ if I ever saw one. So are you gonna stop moping around about how inflated the price of candy is, or are you gonna be excited over how much dancing has _improved_ since then?”

               Steve could only stare at Bucky, mouth agape and heart pounding. Not at the majority of that speech, but at the three words he’d dropped near the beginning of it.

               _Of course he meant it platonically. Don’t overthink it, Rogers._

               Bucky had already clicked on a new video, sidling up distractingly close to Steve before he could even respond.

               _Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)_ started to play, and Steve was almost instantly hypnotized by the rhythm the dancers kept with the music.

               “Betcha I’m even better dancing in this decade,” Bucky challenged, a crooked grin on his face.

               “Bet ya make yourself look like an idiot, jerk.”

               Bucky was already getting up, “Is that any way to speak to Beyoncé?”

(o0o0o0o0)

               Natasha was on her feet as soon as she heard the noise. Just a muffled thump, but she’d learned the hard way that far worse things than ghosts went bump in the night, especially when you were living with a group of highly talented individuals with a tendency to piss off dangerous people.

               She slinked out of bed silently, feeling the cool floor on her bare feet, and left the door slightly ajar behind her.

               If one of them was in danger, it was Barnes. It had taken a Hell of a lot of persuasion on Rogers’s part to get _anyone_ on board with sharing a home with him. Especially when that home was in Stark Tower, in central New York, shining as brightly as a massive neon sign saying “I’m a former assassin wanted by numerous governments for several dozen murders affiliated with one of the most dangerous terrorist organizations known to man! Come get me!”

               Rogers insisted that Bucky was no longer dangerous, and therefore wouldn’t attract as much danger as he had in the beginning, but while Nat agreed, she remained slightly skeptical. So, as she moved from shadow to shadow until she reached Rogers’s front door, her muscles remained tensed, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.

               _“Please…”_

               Bucky’s voice sounded pained, exhausted. He was clearly short of breath. Would they really torture him _inside_ Steve’s apartment? Where the Hell was Rogers?

               Nat eased open the door, taking care not to let any of the cogs squeak or jiggle.

               What she saw, she wasn’t sure how to explain.

               Bucky was doubled over, panting, and Steve stood over him, also winded but looking triumphant, an eyebrow cocked. All the furniture was pushed to the walls, and the room was mostly lit by the glow of a laptop screen in front of them.

               “What was that?” Steve grinned, “Is _Beyoncé_ tired?”

               Bucky straightened up, pushing his hair back, “Fuck no,” he jumped up and down a few times, working up energy, “We’re doin’ this and we’re doin it _right_ , Rogers.”

               Steve leaned towards the laptop, “Five, six, seven, eight.”

               With a click of the mouse, the sweet sound of Beyoncé’s _Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)_ flooded the room, and, perfectly in sync, Steve and Bucky launched into the famous dance, not a step out of place.

               Nat had to stuff a fist in her mouth to stop from literally screaming with laughter, and she quickly jumped back from the door, sliding down the wall onto the floor in the hallway, where she remained shaking with poorly silenced giggles, tears streaming down her face, until a concerned Clint found her. After checking to see what precisely she was laughing at, he took her somewhere where they could laugh in peace.

(o0o0o0o0)

               The song ended, and, after a moment of panting, Buck wheezed, “I think Beyoncé’s a super soldier.”

               “If she is, she had a better inventor than Tony Stark workin on her.”

               “So, any other inventor.”

               The two shared a breathy laugh together.

               “Well,” Steve smirked, and Bucky went weak in the knees, “Looks like I’m a better dancer, now.”

               “UM,” Bucky held up a hand, “You follow the steps, but you don’t got the rhythm I do.” He swiveled his hips for good measure, and Steve thanked God his blush wouldn’t be visible in the darkened room.

               Steve chuckled, “The music’s good, I’ll admit.”

               “ _And_ the dancing,” Bucky added.

               Steve smiled sadly, “Still miss the people, though.”

               Bucky, sick and tired of seeing Steve sad, snorted rather rudely.

               “I don’t.”

               Steve’s face fell. He was almost… _almost_ insulted by that, but he waited for Bucky to elaborate.

               “Or, I do, but you know people then were a little…uptight,” he took a step towards Steve, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. Steve wondered how Bucky could look like a gentleman even when he was dressed in such nondescript clothing.

               Steve licked his lips, “You callin me uptight?”

               “Nah,” Bucky grinned, crooked and perfect, “S’ just that in the forties, I couldn’t do this.”

               And as the ethereal opening note of Beyoncé’s _Halo_ started on autoplay, Bucky pulled Steve in and kissed him, enveloping both of their worlds in a sacrosanct hush.

               Steve was frozen, all the breath stolen from his chest. One move, and this would be over. The spell would be broken, and Steve wanted to keep it going as long as he could. Bucky’s scruff was rough on his cheek, and his lips still tasted of cinnamon from Wanda’s cookies they’d eaten earlier that night.

               He never would have dreamed that Bucky felt this way, too. There had to be a mistake. Still…if the serum didn’t fix… _this_ , for him or for Bucky, then maybe it wasn’t a deficiency. Maybe…

               Bucky suddenly pulled away, stumbling a pace back, eyes wild. Steve’s chest felt very tight.

               “Christ,” Bucky gasped, “I’m sorry, Steve, I didn’t…I’m not…”

               Steve was thankful that he wasn’t able, even out of courtesy, to give Bucky the words he needed. He didn’t think he could handle it if Bucky finished that sentence.

               “Buck,” he forced his voice to even itself out, “It’s honestly fine. We’re both real tired.”

               “Yeah,” Bucky hurriedly agreed, running a hand through his hair and looking away, “Yeah, that’s it.”

               Steve wished that night that Beyoncé had turned out to be another cheap 21st century musician, because a voice like that didn’t do much to help him forget the feeling of Bucky’s lips against his own. He fell asleep to _Halo_ , wondering that if Bucky had embraced the change in dancing since their time, then maybe he would embrace other 21st century changes, as well.

              

              

              

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope u enjoyed this !!! What other songs do you guys think they'd like? Which are their favorite Star Wars movies/characters?? Do they believe that Jar Jar is a Sith Lord?? Comment and let me know!!! ^ _ ^


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